The Final Truth
by Shadowdragon8902
Summary: Hermione has been kidnapped by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. As she and her love struggle to be reunited, they face death, danger, and the Dark Lord himself- and they know that if they fail, the world as they know it will cease to exist.
1. A Strange Savior

Her body was broken, terribly bruised, and bleeding; her eyes were wide and terrified as hopeless tears ran down her discolored face. She wore nothing over her tortured body, making all of the bruises and broken bones easily visible from anywhere in the damp, chilly stone room. Her wrists, bound tightly over her head with a rough, home-made rope which then ran through a double ring in the low ceiling, were bleeding profusely, showing the painful hours of struggling that she'd hoped would free her. Her ankles were bound with another length of the same rope, which had been run through an identical ring in the pitted, scorched, blood-covered floor. Her head hung low, as though she were a subdued slave, and her long hair shielded her face from the sight of the men that paced hungrily about the edges of the chamber.

She watched, her head still hanging, as two of the men stepped closer to her. Terror, anger, disgust, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness rose in her as the first man grabbed her slender waist and held her tightly, drawing fresh bruises to the surface. The second drew a shiny, sharp, deadly-looking silver dagger from a belt sheathe. He grasped her by the chin and forced her head up, looking deep into her defiant but tired eyes. He grinned maliciously, and let her head fall. Then he thrust the silver dagger into her stomach, and painstakingly began to carve his initials.

She screamed, again and again, into the gag that filled her mouth as hot blood ran down her body and dripped onto the floor. The pain filled her, roared through her, ripped her apart inside; it was more intense than any of the other times that she'd suffered through this torture.

The worst thing about this was that it forced her to recognize that there was nothing that she could do to escape this. The man gripping her waist held her too tightly for her to even think of trying to pull free, while her hands and feet were bound. Her mouth was filled with the gag, and she couldn't will anything but pain, terror, and weariness into her eyes. She was utterly helpless to resist these filthy… animals.

So she squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to will away the pain by ignoring it. She counted, she quizzed herself on obscure facts, she even sang inside her head. The pain seemed to ease, lessening from a roaring riptide that engulfed her, to a dull, jagged, insistent throbbing. What happened? Something wasn't right…

She opened her eyes onto a strange scene. All of the men had fallen to their knees on the flagstones; their masked faces were turned to the floor. The knife that her current tormentor had used was lying beside his hand on the floor, blood pooling around it. There was no movement from them as two tall figures in dark robes entered the room.

One of them was the self-styled Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Lord Voldemort. His skin, whiter that bleached bones, almost shone under the flickering light from the sconces that lit the small chamber. He stood tall, his hands hanging at his sides as he surveyed the room. His wide, slit-like nostrils twitched as he smelled her blood, and he turned to look at her.

His wide, vivid scarlet eyes met hers, and she was frozen in place, like a bird that has looked into a snake's eyes and has seen death, but is powerless to stop it. She felt her breathing and heart beat speed up as terror flooded through her system. Then he looked away, and she could move again, limited though her movement was.

The other man… It couldn't be. She had always suspected, of course, but before now she had had no proof. Now, though… that he could inspire such fear told her even more. He was the Dark Lord's right hand man!

He sneered at her, pleased at having hidden his secret from her for so long. Then he turned to his master, fell to his knees, and said, "… This, Master. This woman, this worthless, useless woman. This filthy Mudblood is all that I desire. She was my catch, after all, and I claimed her before they took her from me. I had planned to ask you before, but you sent me on the last… mission… before I had a chance to ask." He bowed his head, and she nearly choked when Voldemort reached out and laid one pale, long-fingered hand on the other man's head, and caressed the other man's hair as though soothing a frightened puppy.

His high, cold voice echoed throughout the chamber as he said, "Since you have done so well, my son, on you last mission, and since you are my most loyal servant, I shall let you have her. My only condition is that you must have her ready in two weeks' time to tell me what I need to know. So do whatever you like with her, but she must be able to talk in two weeks. That is all."

The second man raised his eyes up from the floor, and thanked his master, then rose and came over to inspect his new "property", since that was what she had become.

He circled her, running his fingers across the heaviest bruises, which made her wince. She could feel his eyes running up and down her body, and she tried to pull away. Her body screamed with the extra effort, causing tears to run down her face even as she swung back into his embrace.

He pulled her closer, and in a low, soft voice, he whispered, "Ah, so you're a spirited filly. Well, don't think that that will save you. I like spirit in my women."

He seized the knife from the man who had tentatively offered it to him, and stood, wrapping his arms around her. She tried to struggle, but she hurt too much.

Then she fell, only to be caught by the arms around her. He must have cut the ropes that bound her wrists, but she couldn't feel them anyway. It was only when he had settled her in the cradle he made of his arms that she realized that her feet were free as well.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his, knowing that what she had suffered from them was far worse that anything that he could do to her, and couldn't help but feel that she was being rescued.

He nodded to someone, and a sharp blow landed on her temple, causing her to become completely limp in his arms. He re-arranged his arms so that one rested beneath her knees, and the other under her shoulders, much like she would have held a baby. Everything was quickly becoming hazy, and the last thing that she heard was a high, cold voice that said "And of course, there will be punishment for those who damaged your property." Then he laughed, a shrill, humorless laugh filled with triumph.

Her final thought before she fell into the dark bliss of unconsciousness' was: _That's what he remembers of him?_ And then, she slept.

She was left in the merciless grasp of the right hand man of Voldemort, Wizarding-kind's worst enemy; someone she'd known for twelve years. A man who was merely called RP by those who served him. A man that she'd known as…

Draco Malfoy.


	2. Tales and Tears

He sat up gasping. It had been two weeks since she had vanished, but now he felt something. Something had happened. Something was wrong…

He swung his legs out of the bed, and briskly strode towards the door, ignoring the icy flagstones under his feet. He stopped only once to pull on a shirt, not even bothering to button it up before he hurried out of the room.

As he ran through the corridor and up the stairs, he wondered what could have woken him. He hadn't had this particular feeling since…

His arm was burning fiercely, and when he looked at it, he was filled with an unspeakable dread. The Dark Mark was as black as jet. That could only mean one thing…

He ran faster and faster, paying no mind to the furious shouts that issued forth from the paintings. All that he could think about, all that he could feel, was the Dark mark on his arm, shooting searing pain through his entire body, filling him with the need to rejoin Voldemort… and what could have caused him to have woken so abruptly.

By the time he realized where he was, he had his hand on the doorknob to the door of Albus' office. Without giving himself time to think about anything, or to slow his breathing, he threw open the door to the office, and stepped inside.

Nothing had been moved in the two days since she'd disappeared. As though it was the first time, his eyes took in the clutter of the small office. Papers and instruments were strewn about, and portrait frames were scorched and riddled with holes from curses. The ashes of a fire were scattered on the hearth, and Fawkes was just fluttering into the adjoining bedchamber. He followed the red-and-gold plumed phoenix, careful not to step on anything important.

As he entered the bedchamber, he saw Albus emerge from the bathroom, still adjusting his bathrobe, which was covered in small children holding bunches of balloons. Albus' silver beard and hair were disarrayed, and he too was barefoot. Lines of worry were etched deeply into his face, and his blue eyes glittered with an unreadable emotion. He gestured towards the fire, and said in an almost inaudible voice, "Come, have a seat, Severus."

Obediently, Severus turned, sweeping his hair out of his eyes as he did so. There was a fire blazing merrily in the hearth: three chairs were drawn up before it, with a small table between them and the fire. A glance showed that two of the chairs were empty, and that the third was occupied by Harry Potter.

Harry's face was pale, and his hands were pressed tightly to the scar on his forehead, the legacy of the Dark Lord's attack on the boy when he had been a toddler. His deep green eyes were tear-filled and frightened; his skin wasn't its normal tan shade, but a paler shade, a creamy white, which was bleached further by the flickering flames. His lips trembled as he did his best to suppress sobs, and his untidy jet-black hair fell over his fingers. He was wearing a pair of scarlet flannel pants and a matching shirt, as well as a pair of slippers.

Sitting down, Severus saw that Harry must have arrived here only moments before himself, since the tea in the cup before him on the table was still steaming. Albus sat down, and poured two more cups, one for himself and one for Severus, who left his on the table and began to speak.

"Something has happened, Albus. I can't tell what, but I know that something has happened to her. Do you know anything?"

Albus shook his head. His blue eyes were tired as he said, "No. I know nothing more than you. But Harry may be able to provide the answers that we lack, and that we so desperately need. He came here tonight from his home when his scar pained him so badly that he passed out." The look in Albus' eyes said that Severus should just sit quietly and for him to let Albus do the telling of the tale.

So he did, listening intently.

" Harry, we didn't tell you some of the things that have been happening here at Hogwarts. Perhaps I should have, but I thought that it would be best if you didn't know until you had to, or until she could tell you herself. Unfortunately, I believe that I must tell you now. So please, Harry, please just listen. Listen closely, and listen well."

Albus sipped his tea. Severus could see the wheels turning in his head, and knew that Albus didn't know how to tell the boy. So Severus cleared his throat, and suggested, "Why not start with what we knew immediately?"

He nodded, took a deep breath, and began to weave his horrifying tale.

"I had set wards, months ago, to let me know if certain rooms were disturbed. I had hoped my feelings were wrong about these things, but I set them just in case.

"Two days ago, I was working out an order for a case of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, when the wards were crossed. As I stood to go to the rooms, my door was thrown wide open.

"A man walked in, wearing a mask, a dark cloak, and a black robe; he was hoping to hide his identity, no doubt. In his arms he carried someone. She seemed to be unconscious, but she may have just been Stunned. I couldn't tell who at first- she was too tall to be a student from any of the current classes.

"He set her down, carefully, gently, almost lovingly in one of my office chairs, then turned to me. He laughed, his voice triumphant, and said, 'You're no match for me, old man!'

"He blasted my office with various curses, then turned his wand on me. Since I didn't have my wand in my hand, I couldn't defend myself. I fell, senseless, as he picked up the other person, and left my office.

"When I came to my senses, the two were gone."

Severus could see that Harry didn't understand, that he hadn't figured it out. He rose to his feet, and shouted, "Albus, we don't have time for this! Just tell him-"

But Albus shook his head, and waited. Severus sat, his heart racing. How could the boy not know?

Finally, Albus' voice, filled with sorrow, began the tale again. "The man was Draco Malfoy. And the girl…"

Harry shook his head; a horrifying thought occurring to him.

"No. No- it can't have been…"

But Albus met his eyes, and said, softly, " The girl was… Hermione Granger."

Harry began to cry in earnest now. Tears streaked down his face, as Albus drew him into an embrace. Severus could hear Harry slightly, but didn't listen. An idea had suddenly come to him.

Could he use Harry to find Hermione?

But Albus turned to him, and asked him to tell Harry what had happened since then. He nodded, and took up his part of the tale.

"I was numb, numb with shock and loss. I didn't believe Albus. How could that have happened?

"I didn't believe him because my quarters are next to hers. I hadn't heard a thing.

"I was angry that Albus could have played such a trick on me. But when I looked into his eyes…"and his eyes filled with tears, "… I could see that it was true.

"All along I had known. Albus wouldn't have done something like that to me. And I had had my warning, by my Dark Mark. That was what had awakened me.

"I cried, then," he sobbed, his voice thick with tears, " like I am now. And the Headmaster calmed me down, and put me to bed, since I couldn't sleep on my own. And my only thought before I slept was, _Maybe we can save her…_

"So I have been searching, these past two days, for her. But there is no sign of her, though I know that she still lives. I would have felt it if she had died…"

He fell silent, letting the tears flow down his face. He had learned that all that he could do was to cry when the time came.

Once the worst of the tears had passed, Severus remembered his idea.

"I think, Harry," he began, tentatively, "that I may know of a way to find her. But I need your help, and I need you to trust me."

Harry looked quizzically at him, his eyes still red from crying. Severus could sense a cold resentment form him at the fact that they hadn't told him about Hermione vanishing, and he could feel the younger man's burning anger, too. But he saw Harry's hope that she could be found, and kept talking.

"You must trust me, because- Do you remember when the Dark Lord used you, in your fifth year?"

Harry nodded, his curiosity rising.

"Well, if he could do that to you, then you can do it to him, as well. You don't know how, but I do. If you truly trust me, you will lower your shields against me and let me into your mind, and I'll get the information from his mind. And I will protect you and myself. You don't need to do anything but trust."

Harry gave the idea a bare thirty seconds of thought before he nodded. "All right. But you and I should sit. Who knows how long that this will take?"

Severus shook his head, and explained the other part of the theory to him.

" You need not stay. You may find it easier, though, if you are asleep. I will, in effect, be asleep, since I will be going through your mind into his."

Albus nodded at that point, then left the room while Harry and Severus debated several other points.

When Albus returned, he was carrying two goblets and a bottle of Sleeping Potion. After filling the two goblets, he gave one to Harry, who lay down on the bed and drank it. He grimaced at the taste, and fell into a deep, relaxed sleep.

Severus took the other goblet, and sat down on the bed next to Harry. Looking at Albus for a last reassurance, her drank down the potion, grabbed Harry's wrist to ease the contact, and laid back. He was inside Harry's sleeping mind in a matter of moments.

His body, sinking into sleep, released its hold on Harry's arm. The journey had begun.

Albus warded all of the doors and windows with the strongest spells he knew, then sat down to wait. The last thing that he noticed was that Harry and Severus both had a single, glistening tear running down the same spot on their faces. _Strange,_ he thought. Then he too slept.


	3. The Deliverance

Hermione woke slowly, confused by the weight of the blankets, and by her thoughts. _Someone hit me_… who would hit her? What happened? Had all of… that… been a terrible dream? A horribly realistic nightmare?

Opening her eyes, she realized that she hadn't been dreaming. It was the reality that she'd been trying to deny… _Oh, if it had only been a dream_…

Silently, lying still, she took in her new surroundings. She was lying in a bed that was pushed into a corner of the room. The small table next to the bed was covered in bottles of various sizes; they contained potions for her, no doubt. A quick swipe at the table produced no result other than her arm bouncing back- there was an Untouchable Charm on the table and its contents.

There were two windows in the room, each of which opened onto a beautiful mountain view. By the light coming through the first window, it must be dusk, since it grew darker each minute. The moon shone over the tallest mountain peak, full and glowing, illuminating the pine forests and the stream that coursed lazily beside the house. From the other window, she could see what had once been a small town, but was now a small, secluded city. The lights in the windows blazed cheerily, throwing strips of colored light across the glittering blanket of fresh snow.

Turning back to her room, she saw that there were multiple bookcases on the far wall, which were all jammed with books. Between two of the central bookcases, there was a small alcove. There was a chair in the alcove, with a side-table. There was a small lamp standing on the table, which threw light over the deep red of the carpet, chair cushions, walls, and bedding.

A smaller door in the wall turned out to be a restroom, when she got up to investigate. She shut the door to the room, noting that there was no lock on it. Then she followed the short hallway into the room itself, and forgot about that detail as she saw the room.

It was nearly an exact replica of the prefect's bathroom at Hogwarts. There was a large bathtub sunk into the red-tiled floor, with dozens of taps lining the sides. There were several large, fluffy towels hung on a rack between the toilet and the sink. A large mirror hung over the sink, reflecting the room back at her.

The only differences here were that the portrait of the mermaid was missing, there was a small window that opened onto a beautiful forest scene, and that everything was dyed the same shade of red as the other room.

She resolved to take a bath once she finished her investigation. But, out of sheer curiosity, she looked into the mirror, and was shocked by what she saw.

Most of the bruises on her face were gone. When she peeled back the long nightgown that she was wearing, she saw that most of the bruises on her arms and legs were gone as well. The knife wounds were healing into smooth white scars, and her assortment of broken bones was nearly finished healing.

This brought her back to the most interesting question of all- _how long have I been here?_

Lost in thought, she slowly wandered back to her bed. She climbed back onto it, and pulled the blankets all the way up to her chin. Being so preoccupied, she didn't notice the door opening. Nor did she notice the men who came through it, carrying a dresser filled with her clothes, and a small chest of things to be hung in an unnoticed closet by the bathroom door.

Inside her head, her thoughts formed a whirlwind. She wasn't sure, but she thought that she had only been in this place- this room, here (_not _there…_ hereherehere…_) for a few days at the most. But she wasn't sure. It was possible that she had only been here (…_here…_) for a matter of moments before she woke. Maybe it had been weeks since she was brought out of that hellhole…

She dimly remembered things happening after she had been hit. She remembered, faintly, the sensation of being carried like a small child, cradled in a pair of strong, warm arms and listening to screams of agony recede behind her… the frightening feeling of the safety of those arms draw away, leaving her on the bed, and her unbearable agony easing… the goblet, resting against her lips and the taste of a mixture of potions… the soft nightgown and bed sheets against her battered body as she thrashed, trying to escape from a half-remembered threat… a voice, barely heard, telling her to rest, and to stop fussing… and a brush of soft, warm lips against her forehead as she fell into the haven of sleep.

The next thing that she remembered was waking here, nearly healed and utterly perplexed. There was so much that she wasn't sure of. But there were two things that she was sure of: the first being that she needed to get out of this room and return to the Order, and the second…

First things first.

She knew already that there was no way that she could Apparate, since she was a prisoner. The room would have been spelled against it. There was no fireplace that she could climb through or use Floo powder in, and of course there was no broom that she could ride. And anyway, the windows would be spelled against breaking and removal. So the only exit to the room was the door, which was, without a doubt, securely locked.

And as she looked around, there was nothing that she could hurt anyone, herself or someone else, with. Everything in the room was either too light to cause major amounts of damage, or too heavy for her to lift. There was nothing remotely sharp anywhere in the room, and her wand was on her bedside table at the castle. So she hadn't a chance in the world of breaking down the door or slicing her way through it.

It seemed that things were hopeless. At least, for the time being.

So she forced herself to get out of the bed, collect some clothes from the dresser- jeans, a nice shirt, socks, a sweater and underclothes- and then went into the bathroom. She closed the door and walked into the bathroom, anticipating, but also dreading, a bath.

She turned on several of the taps, and then stripped off her nightgown as the tub filled. Once it was full, she walked down the steps into the water, one hand on the handrail, and the other turning off the taps closest to her.

As she finished turning off the other taps, she realized that there wasn't very much blood on her, not as much as there should have been after she had been cut like that. She remembered the numerous times that that had happened, and it didn't make sense. She had bled so much! And yet, there was so little blood on her.

She stored that question away for later as she finished her hurried scrubbing and got out. She hadn't wanted _him _to come in and find her in the bathtub, or even half-dressed. It didn't matter that he'd already seen her body- she'd had no choice then. _I'll be damned if I let him see me that way now!_

She walked over to the sink and began to clean her teeth. As she worked, she ran through, and discarded, several ways that she could have escaped from any other place. What could she do? What would help her?

As she was rinsing the brush, a thought came to her. Dropping the brush in the sink, she hurried back to the main chamber, sweeping thick, damp curls out of her eyes. The bookshelves! Why hadn't she thought of them before?

As she faced them, she realized how futile the idea had been. Draco knew how good she was at finding important information, and even wandless, she'd be able to find something to help her. No, the books on the shelves would be for pleasure, or perhaps extremely detailed encyclopedias or bestiaries, but none of them would so much as hint at where she was or give her the faintest clue of how she could escape.

She walked back into the bathroom and cleaned up the rest of her things, putting the toothbrush on the side of the sink, and re-hanging the hastily dropped towel on the towel rack. She walked, slowly, back to the main room and threw the clothes into the empty hamper in the bottom of her closet.

Turning, spinning in the center of the room, she finally let the tears that she'd held back for so long flow down her face. She cried tears of fear and disgust, tears of relief and pain, tears of anguish and helplessness, tears of loss and loneliness, tears of bitterness and worthlessness. As she spun, she let them all flow away, and then she collapsed onto the chair next to the bookcase. She let all of her emotions melt, and she sobbed them all out, each in turn, until there was nothing left in her system but a feeling of grim determination to get out of the miserable, unknown hellhole that she was trapped in.

Worn out by her crying, she reached up to a shelf and pulled out a book, not caring what it was. Then she began to read, letting herself become lost in the simple magic of reading and writing.

But before long, her haven was destroyed by a long shadow falling across the book. Looking up, she felt her heart turn to ice in terror of the shadow's owner.

Draco was back.

She quaked with terror and hatred inside, but kept her emotions hidden as she slowly marked her place and shut the book. Then she sat quietly, waiting for him to speak.

Silence settled over the room, thick and smothering. The volume of it rose and rose, threatening to shatter her resolution to stay quiet. Just before it broke her promise, he made his move.

He leaned across the book, which had fallen open again, and gripped her shoulders tightly. Leaning in to her, he pressed his lips hard to her unresponsive ones, trying to force her to respond. While he was kissing her, he slid his hands slowly down her arms and gripped her wrists tightly, keeping her from trying to escape his hold. She felt her eyes fill with a loathing, and a measure of her inner terror, because as he glanced into them, he pulled away and began to laugh.

"Ah, so you _do_ fear me. And here I thought that you were the fearless, all- knowing Mudblood-"

At this, she snarled, and attempted to strike him. He easily held her arms at her sides, and switched his grip so that he held both of her hands in a crushing grip of one of his. Then, lifting his free hand, he struck her. Once, twice, three, four times he struck her, and when he stopped, her head was ringing and she was whimpering unconsciously, no longer the rebellious prisoner, but the docile slave.

"Listen to me," He pleaded, his face growing softer, in a voice so low that the guards beside the half-open door couldn't hear him speak, "I'm going to help you, but you must act like you did when I saw you last, and I as I did. But you must trust me, because I'm the only one that can save you."

Then his voice rose, but she noticed a comforting gleam in his eyes, and did her best to play her part.

"As I was saying, I thought that you were fearless, above such petty emotions and trivial hurts as name calling. But it appears that I was wrong.

"And who knows. Perhaps a little fear will help you learn more quickly. But then, perhaps not."

He let go of her wrists, mouthing at her that she must attack him. She sprang out of her chair, her face filled with rage. But before she'd had the chance to do more than rise, he had his wand on her.

"Stupefy!"

She fell back, frozen but still aware of the treachery going on around her. She fought the spell with all of her might to no avail. She had been taken in by one of his schemes without so much as a word against him.

She was jolted out of her thoughts when hid hands lifted her like a child again, and then laid her on the bed mere moments later. A goblet was pressed against her lips, and by the smell of it, it was a simple sleeping potion. Then the goblet tipped slightly, and she received more than she could hold in her mouth, limiting her to one of two choices: swallow, or choke.

She swallowed, and more was poured into her mouth. She'd swallowed about half of the goblet before it was set down, and her face gently wiped of all the spilled potion. Then Draco's other hand brushed her hair out of her eyes, and he looked her in the eyes, mouthing her new directions. She blinked, and he freed her from the spell.

As soon as he'd done so, she began to pound his arms with her fists, beating it over and over with weakening fists. Soon she was just barely touching him, no longer able to fight to potion. He gently let her upper body fall onto the bed, watching her as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

Before she fell completely asleep, he leaned over her and kissed her tenderly on the forehead, his warm lips just barely brushing her skin, and he whispered a few words to her.

"Trust me. I will get you out of here. And… sleep well, darling."

Then he was gone from the bedside.

She had just enough time to think of two things before the potion finished its work: was Severus, her love, asleep? And why had Draco called her "darling"?

Then sleep, heavy and all-encompassing, flooded over her, and she thought no more.


	4. The Dream

_He was running, running down a corridor in the dungeons, his bare feet slapping against the floor, his breath misting in the air before his face, his body numb and his heart exploding. Mere feet behind him, when he looked, were the demon hordes of mythical beasts and magical beings, sent to hunt him. He could hear their growls and groans, and could feel their anticipation of the feast that they would have when they stripped his flesh from his bones. And since all that kept them from doing it was the space between them, he kept running, though soon he would give out..._

_Looking ahead, he saw the stairs that led up to the Entrance Hall, and his heart leapt. If only he could get up those stairs, and get to Albus' office… he could get help. He was on the home stretch, nearly to the stairs, when everything got colder. He looked up, and was terrified by what he saw looming over him on the stairs. It couldn't be-_

_The Dark Lord stood on the steps, grinning in anticipation of his arrival, his eyes wide, a gruesome, terrifying smile lighting his face. He raised his wand, pointing it at Severus, and waited._

_Severus spun around, and saw the horde nearing him. Spinning back, he saw Voldemort's grin of satisfaction, and heard his high, cold laugh echo throughout the corridor._

_As Severus spun wildly, looking for any escape, the other man said "You can't escape from me, Severus. You should know that by now!"_

_There was no escape. He was caught between the horde and his former master, and would be devoured or tortured-_

_And then, the door appeared in the wall._

_He flung it open, flew inside, and shut it, feeling it shudder as those… those _things…_slammed into it, howling. Looking around, he noticed that he now stood in Albus' office. Searching the room for the man, he noticed that the door to Albus' room was open, and assumed that the man was in there. So he hurried inside, and shut the door, hoping that it would hold. He threw the old-fashioned iron bolt that adorned the door, and turned, looking for something that could slow the monsters' progress further. But within seconds, he no longer needed to- his problem had been solved by someone else._

_A voice, hauntingly familiar, rose out of the darkness. "Colloportus!" It cried, and a jet of light washed over the door, which sealed with an odd squelching noise. The room was illuminated momentarily with a green light, and he turned, trying to find the person whose voice had shattered his heart when the door was sealed._

_But the room was dark by the time that he had turned all the way, and he gave up on finding the source. He knew the voice's owner, even though the voice could have been coming from someone else; there was anguish and terror and heartbreak and loss written throughout it. It was also cracked, as though she'd been screaming…_

_Tears streamed thick and fast down his face as he began to move about the room, feeling blindly ahead of him to ensure that he'd not hit anything as he searched. Even here, in his dreams, there was no surcease from his horrible loss… There was no way that she could still be alive, so his mind must have called her up, bringing her here in response to his deepest wishes… there was no way that it could be her… no way…_

_Finally he saw her, sitting on the far side of the bed. But if she was a figment, a memory, then how had she…_changed_…so much from the last time he saw her?_

_Her hair was damp, hanging in thick curls around her face. There were dark, painful bruises fading on her face, making sections of her face a pale grey-green-yellow color. Her eyes were filled with the terror, anguish and hopelessness that had filled her voice, but he could also see a breathtaking love written there, too. Her arms were covered in half-healed scars, and he could see a few on her legs, as well. _

"_Her-" his voice cracked, and he tried to speak, to talk to her, to find out that she was real. But he was terrified. What happened if she wasn't? But he tried again, fearful of the results._

_He drew closer to her, and ran his fingers down an ugly scar that ran across her face, wondering what could have happened to her to cause that. Was it some form of torture, or just a "game"?_

_And he knew that she was alive when he touched her. She was warm, her flesh more _real _than anything in his dream. There could be no doubt that she was alive._

"_Her-Hermione? You-you're alive!" he cried, as he pulled her into his arms. "Are you- are you alright? What happened?"_

_He could feel her body shaking, and held her tighter. If only he could take away all of her pain… and erase her memories of this event. But he was content, for the moment, to just hold her close to himself and feel her skin, to small her hair, to feel his lungs being crushed by the force of her hold on him._

_She relaxed, after a time, and they sat down on the bed. She sat in his arms, and began to tell him of her ordeal._

"_Oh my God, Hermione. I'm so sorry. I didn't know… I couldn't help you…" he was horrified at some of the things that those "men" had done to her._

"_It's okay, Severus." She replied, and he could see her biting back sobs. _

"_No, it's not. Tell me about the room you're in now. Maybe we can find you, and get you out."_

_She proceeded to tell him everything that she knew, down to the last little detail. When she mentioned the color of the room, though, near the end of her description, his arms stiffened around her._

"_Oh, lord." He swore, knowing exactly where she was, and wondering how it had escaped detection from the Order for all of these years. Not surprising, really, that he'd choose such a place. But to think that they'd never even suspected…_

"_Hermione, you're in the Red Room. It's a room in a house that was once very well known, but was abandoned years ago. After…" He swallowed, steeling himself to say it. "After Lily and James Potter were killed. They died there, and that was the room where young Harry Potter was given that scar. You're… you're in the the Potter's house, out in Godric's Hollow!"_

_They fell silent, and he could feel that she had stiffened up slightly in response to what he'd said. He was amazed, though, that he'd never thought to look there, but then, it didn't really make sense, did it? Who used a house where they'd nearly died as headquarters for their own system?_

_But he pulled himself out of his thoughts, to see a fresh set of tears streaking her face. _

"_What's wrong, Hermione? What's wrong?" He asked, slightly frightened to see tears trickling down her face while they were sitting so close together._

_"There's something that I couldn't tell you." She said, her voice quavering. Taking a deep breath, he could see her steeling herself to tell him a piece of news that terrified her more than anything else she'd experienced._

"_I'm alive, but I don't know if I will be in two weeks from now. Currently, I'm the 'property' of Draco Malfoy, who is Voldemort's right-hand man. He gave me to Draco after Draco asked him for me!" Her voice was filling with panic, growing wilder and wilder as she twisted in his arms to face him. He saw, with a terrible clarity, every detail of her face: her eyes, brimming with tears and filled with conflicting emotions, her quivering lips, the tears that began their voyage down her face. The way hair shaded her eyes, and the very redness of her cheeks._

_Slowly, doing the only thing that he knew would help reassure her, he kissed her lips. Then her drew back a little bit, and watched her for a moment as she gathered her thoughts, and regained a calmer composure, though her eyes were still bright with fear and pain._

"_They must be trying to get the Final Prophesy from you. He must want to know what's going to happen… so that he can either change it or stop us from stopping it. Of all the times for this to happen!!!" he exclaimed, angry._

"_Well, I won't tell them. I'll… I'll fake it! I'll just pretend! Yes, that's what I'll do. And you can come and get me- perhaps you'll get there before they come…" she said, planning to try and thwart the forces of darkness._

"_That won't work, Hermione, He's a Legilimens! You should know that from you fifth year, when I was teaching Harry how to use Occlumency to the best of his ability-"_

"_Yes, well, he told us what you were trying to teach him, and I practiced it. I can deflect any attempt that's thrown at me now, at least from anyone who's tried to do it in a practice session. So I daresay that I can be considered a very good Occlumencer, and can most likely keep him from discovering the lie for several days."_

"_Hermione, no! It's too dangerous! Don't you realize what you could be getting yourself into, and what could happen-"_

_He stopped speaking abruptly. The room around him, and everything in it excepting for himself and Hermione was shimmering with an unearthly glitter. Slowly, before his disbelieving eyes, things began to disappear, fading out as though they never existed. In moments, everything was gone, replaced by a strange nothingness in which the two of them floated. She was out of arms' reach, suspended in place, and as hard as they tried, neither one of them could reach the other._

_And soon, she too began to fade. Slowly, ever so slowly, so that at first he thought that it was a trick of the light. Then he knew, as she became a pearly transparent figure. He reached for her, straining one last time, harder than before, but to no avail. _

"_Severus… don't leave me here by myself!" she cried, and he was forced to reconsider. Perhaps it wasn't her that was doing the disappearing; perhaps it was himself. And when he looked closer, he realized that it was him. She was still there, still whole… _

"_Hold up as best as you can, dear heart." He pleaded, trying to make her think of what was at stake. "And don't do anything foolish…"_

_Then he could move, and he floated towards her. Raising his hand, he brushed it across her forehead, and the momentary shock of feeling in this void made him whole for an instant longer. She hugged him hard, then kissed his lips, and he disappeared in a rush of swirling colors and howls._

_He looked back, only once, to see her holding her hands out to him. "I love you!" She cried. Then darkness washed over him, and he could see no more._

He sat up suddenly, bewildered by the darkness. An "I love you, too." that had risen to his lips subsided he realized that she was gone, left behind in the world of dreams He remembered chase, hard and brutal, the jagged, heart rending close, and all of it's events as he sat there, re-dreaming his dream. He had to tell Albus all of it-!

The sunlight streaming through the window showed that it was early in the day. It also helped him realize how much he needed to talk to Albus. Who else knew where to go to?

Caught up in these thoughts, he tried to get up once, twice, three times before he felt the hands on his shoulders and arms. They were not only restraining him from getting up, but they were _holding_ him up. On one side, he felt Remus' scraped hands, and on the other, Alastor's heavily callused one gripping his arm fairly tightly. He tried to shake them off, to rise and run to find Albus, to share the information that he'd gained, but they just held tighter, refusing to allow him to get up…

As he looked around, searching for the Headmaster, who had to be nearby, he realized just how weak he was. How had that happened, just overnight? He couldn't think of any way that something could change him so much in so short a time.

Albus walked in just then, glasses perched on the end of his nose, his eyes showing just a hint of… relief? He walked over to the end of the bed, and sat down on it, turning to face Severus after he was comfortable.

Before he'd had a chance to say anything, Severus had already begun. "How… how long… have I been… asleep?" he asked, worried. What if it hadn't been just one night, but it had been two? Or three? They'd need all of the time that they had to get there on time. Even with Apparation, it would still take a while to sneak past Death Eaters, and to disable or neutralize the wards, and there were so many things to do before they could leave…

Albus met his eyes squarely, and gave an answer that brought tears of hopelessness to them. "You've been asleep for ten days, Severus. And we still can't wake Harry. It seems that, whatever you did, you will have to undo. So we'll bring him here, and then we'll get the information that we need to know from you."

"But- a week and a half! How's that even-"he tried to roar, but his voice gave out.

"-possible?" finished Remus.

When Severus nodded, he motioned for Alastor to tell the distraught man what they suspected had happened.

"We suspect that Hermione was drugged, forcing her into a deep sleep. Then someone must have put a spell on her after she entered the dream plane, so that she couldn't escape into the waking world. And included in the potion was something that would make it hard for anyone she met with to leave her presence. You fought it for the ten days that you slept, but she can't fight it, which means she's trapped there until someone releases her from it. And to top that off, she's in Draco's hands- and he could be working magic over her lifeless body as we speak!"

Albus' upraised hand prevented any other attempt at explanation. He waited until all three men were looking at him, then rose, and called through the door, saying "Bring him in, Poppy."

The Nurse brought in a stretcher, on which lay a comatose Harry.

Severus thought for a moment, then put his hands on Harry's head, as though blessing him. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to fall into Harry's mind.

It was dark, and vast, like a cave that has been without sunlight since the world began. He looked about, admiring, once again, the colors that bloomed so freely in his mind. It was a pity, though, that so many of his emotions, the colors, had faded, becoming a bleached version of what they could have been.

He began to carefully make tracks through the echoing cavern, taking care to make as little noise as possible so as not to draw attention to himself. You never knew what resided in someone else's brain, and he wasn't taking any undue chances.

Soon he saw Harry, who was sitting calmly in a bubble that shone with an iridescent glitter- a protective dream-bubble. Gently, almost in slow motion, he reached his hand inside, and lightly touched Harry's shoulder. The young man opened his eyes, and nodded slowly, then shut them even more firmly than they had been before.

Severus withdrew his arm, and sat down on the ground before him, waiting. Moments later, he saw the bubble slowly collapse, coating the man inside. A minute after that, there was no sign that it had even been there, and Harry rose, waiting for his former professor to do so as well. Then, walking side by side, they headed back to the entrance of the cavern.

At the entrance, Harry stopped him. Looking into his eyes, Severus noted the question there, and he nodded. Harry's face lightened, and then he stepped into the blinding light that was the conscious world. Severus followed, grinning wryly. Who knew?

He opened his eyes and found that, for the second time in the same day, he was lying down. He struggled to sit up, and realized that it wasn't the second time in the same day- it was night.

His hoarse shouts brought the others running. Even Harry was up and about, moving steadily and with strength, though he'd been asleep longer than Severus had.

Harry sat down, looking into Severus' eyes. He drew in a deep breath, and said, all in a rush, "We need to know where Hermione's being kept. I know that you know, because of your response a few hours ago, and I need to know now, so that we can get ready to leave."

Severus shook his head, and dry, mirthless laughter issued from his mouth, shaking his weakened frame. He laughed and laughed, his face showing his feelings: pain, anger, hatred, worry, fear, hopelessness, determination, love, and confusion, each flitting across his face and disappearing.

When he'd regained his control, he looked at the group of people that were looking at him as though he was mad. And then, not even trying to disguise the feelings that he knew that he still openly displayed, he said "You want to know where she is, Harry? Do you really want to know?"

By this time, Severus had the vicious look of defeat on his face, testimony to his exhaustion- exhaustion of the soul. Harry was looking right at him, staring him down, daring him to keep it a secret as he said "Yeah, Professor, I do."

Albus laid a hand on the young man's shoulder, silencing him, and then turned to Severus. He gave him a mildly reproving look, silently informing him that Harry did indeed care, and that he had as much a right to know as any of the rest of them.

Albus spoke gently, giving him another opening to tell them anything that he could. "Severus, if you know anything that may help us save her, please tell us. We care about her just as much as you do, and we want to save her _before it's too late._"

A bitter, humorless laugh once again emerged from his mouth, blinding him to anything else as he gave in to the hysterics that had threatened to overwhelm him for the last few weeks. And throughout the entire fit, he could think only one thing: _We'll never save her now… Oh, my darling… my love… I'm so sorry…_

Pain brought him back to the room where his body rested. Harry was just raising his hand to deal out another punishing slap across the face when Severus spoke, causing him to stay his hand.

"Fine. Fine. But we're gonna have one bloody helluva time to get to her, much less to free her. Especially in the four days that we have left to save her." He said, tears streaming freely from his eyes as a combination of the facts sinking in, the hysteria, and the pain of the punishing blows hit his system. "She's where you've been before, Harry. She's where… where-"he couldn't bring himself to say the words, and as he struggled to say it, to tell them, the exhaustion that had been building was too great for him to fight, and unconsciousness hit him like a hammer blow.

He heard, faintly, as he slipped away, "Severus? Severus! Talk to me! Severus-"

"Professor-"

Then all was silent, and he died the death that people die when they dream- the reenactment of all of the horrors they've faced.


	5. The Truth Revealed

_It seemed that ages had passed after her soul mate had left her. She'd been sitting, hovering, floating- whatever it was that she was doing- in this strange light/not light everything/nothing place for what was an eternity in mere moments. He'd been gone for so long now, and since he'd left, nothing had changed, yet everything had._

_She felt that she must surely be dying in this plain of wonder and ruin: that this light/not light everything/nothing place that she was coming to love was the last thing that she'd ever see. _

_And somehow, that didn't seem so bad, except for the fact that she'd never see him again. But other than that, she didn't care about anything but this, this strange place/not place filled with truth/lies, and that she would die as a part of it. She knew she had finally come home, and was glad to be there._

_Then her place/not place, world/not world, this… this… _home_… became lined with fibers of darkness and light. It began to split apart at the seams, and everything turned black, blacker than pitch, except for the small lights that riddled the darkness, like stars in a moonless midnight sky._

_Everything she'd been missing- sights, sounds, tastes smells and textures, bombarded her as she fell there, beneath the sky. She saw Severus, hands on Harry's head, felt coarse, greasy hair beneath her hands, tasted his skin from their first kiss, smelled his unique aroma of potions ingredients and some spice, and the strangest song that she'd heard him sing to her once:_

_When your world breaks down_

_And the voices tell you turn around_

_When your dreams give out_

_I will carry you, carry you_

_When the stars go blind_

_And the darkness starts to flood your eyes_

_When you're falling behind_

_I will carry you_

_Now even those little lights died, fading, becoming nothing, a mere thought in a world where light and senses meant nothing, and darkness was the only thing to be wary of. She was wrapped in a heavy, suffocating blanket of throbbing, strangling darkness…_

Oh, Severus,_ she thought desperately, sobbing into the silent, cold darkness,_ where are you now?

"Hermione?"

_A voice? How?_

"Can you hear me, Hermione?"

"_Yes!" she cried out, wordlessly, soundlessly, into the darkness. "Yes, I can hear you! And if you can hear me, please save me!"_

"All you have to do is open you eyes, Hermione."

_She did, and realized…_

_I'm only dreaming!_

She opened her eyes, ever so slowly, trying to hide her face from the lamps that threw light across the room. She shut her eyes again almost immediately, unable to bear the light that seemed to send needles through her head. She felt something rough and home-made rub against her face, and opened her eyes to peek at it briefly. It was… a bandage?

Keeping her eyes closed, she gently felt a stiff patch on her forehead, only to find another one, much longer and thicker. It must have been a horrible wound, to have such a bandage on it. She could tell without checking that there was a bandage on her other hand, because it was stiff as well.

She couldn't feel any other injuries, but she couldn't be sure. She figured that if they were there, they must not be too bad.

She also notices that she was clad only in a nightgown. Who'd undressed her?

"So, Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken. Why, just in time for Prince Charming's visit!" drawled a low, threatening voice.

She didn't have to turn her head or even open her eyes to know that Draco stood right next to her. His voice was cold, dripping with scorn and disgust. She'd never heard him sound like this before, not even as a schoolboy. In fact, only once had she heard him come anything even close to this heartlessness- and that had been when he asked his master for her!

It sounded as though he was speaking this way to make a point to someone else, and so she lay still, keeping her breathing deep and even. She'd have to take her cues from him, and hope that she played the right part.

His hand took hers, and he squeezed gently. She took this to mean that she should act as though she wasn't quite awake, but not precisely sleeping, either. So she tossed in the bed slightly, and tried to draw her arm back under the blanket.

He squeezed slightly harder, in approval. Then he let her arm drop, and walked a bit away from the bed.

"Get going!" he snarled. "That potion won't wait forever! And I need those ingredients- pronto! Or I have to start over, and then we'll see whose fault it ends up being!"

"Yessir." Several voices muttered, and then she heard boot heels thunking down the hall, and three… four… five audible cracks as they Disapperated.

"All right, Hermione. You can open your eyes now. They've gone."

She did, and sat up slowly, with his help. He propped her up with pillows, then relinquished his grip on her shoulders.

Stepping away, he pulled up a chair, and sat down. His face shone with hard-concealed laughter and amusement, and his eyes twinkled merrily as he envisioned her response to his cues. He chuckled quietly, but fell silent as he noticed the look on her face.

"That was such a great performance! How did you know just what I wanted you to do? I wasn't sure that you'd understand-"

She cut him off, anxious to get some of her questions answered. "Just a lucky guess, I suppose. Why did you say you'd help me if you were going to Stun me? Why did you tell me to trust you? What's going on? And why am I bandaged?"

He looked at her silently for a moment, fighting some internal battle as to whether or not to answer her questions. Finally, he spoke. "All right," he said, resigned. "I'll answer your questions. But first- are you hurt?"

There were emotions playing slightly across his face. Worry, and anxiousness, and something else. What was that, shining deep in his eyes like a glowing ember in the dark of night?

She shook her head, and forced herself to look away. She realized that she hadn't answered the question, and she hurriedly replied, "No, but-"

"Yes, I know that you want to get your answers. But bear with me for a few minutes. This tale is a longer one, and cannot be told quickly."

He drew a deep breath, and began to fill her in on the events of the last few weeks.

" My master, the Dark Lord, wanted to know the outcome of the struggle that's been building for decades- his struggle for total domination. He knew that a prophesy had been mad concerning it, and went to great lengths to find out who had predicted it and who had heard. Once he found out that Lavender Brown had prophesized and you had heard, he had her killed and you brought here. He didn't want anyone else to know what would happen.

"So he sent me to retrieve you from Hogwarts, where he had learned that you were helping teach Potions. He, of course, was delighted to learn that you were working with one of his ex-Death Eaters, "Professor" Severus Snape. And he knew that Severus regarded you as something special. For so long, he'd wanted to strike back at Severus, but had held his hand 'til a more opportune time. When he sent me, he was nearly crying with joy. Not only would he know the outcome of the war, but he'd injure Severus at the same time! It was too good to pass up.

"And that's where this whole thing started. As I came into your room, I was prepared to use force to bring you away, but as I stood over your bed, I knew that I couldn't do it. I stood there, motionless, for ten minutes, trying to make myself do as my Master had bid me. But I just couldn't.

"Finally, I cast a spell on you, a simple sleeping spell. I didn't want to take you, but I didn't dare disobey my master, either. So I lifted you into my arms, and went to Albus' office.

"I'd checked your room and seen the wards he'd placed on it, and disabled them for the first trip through. I didn't bother to do so the second time, though; I had been told that I was to get something from Albus' office, and had no choice but to go and get it.

"So I went, and set you down on a chair in his office. You were beginning to fight the spell, so I had no choice but to blast him, take the item, and escape with you in my arms. After all, you might have awakened at any time, and I couldn't let that happen.

"I brought you here, to a hidden chamber off of my rooms, and left you there, to wake slowly and alone in a strange room. I'd have stayed, but I didn't want you to be frightened more than you had to be when you woke. And I had to take the item that I'd collected from the office to my Master.

"When I returned, I found you missing. The only clue as to where you had been taken was a strip of black cloth, lying across the shredded comforter. I knew, though, what must have happened and who you must have been taken by. But I also knew that you had put up one bloody hell of a fight, to have torn up the bed like that. I know that you did it, because none of them would have left such a huge clue behind.

"So I hurried to my Master, to beg him for your return. But he sent me out on a mission before I had the chance to ask him, and so I had to leave you in their possession until I returned, a week and a half later. Then I made my request, pleading that you had been mine, and that they had taken you away from me. My Master granted it, allowing me to take you as something like a possession."

His face was glowing with the force of his rage, though there was something slightly… uncomfortable… showing there as well. It seemed that he wasn't enjoying the tale nearly as much as she'd thought that he would have been. There, and there- she saw the same mysterious quality that she'd seen earlier. A glimmer of understanding began to from, though she still didn't have enough to be sure…

He looked at her, and as she stared into his strangely muted eyes, she fell somewhere deep inside herself, to some other realm of thought. And she remembered things that had been hidden, jumbled until they were just flashes of sight and sound, smell and feeling, dismissed as parts of half-remembered dreams. _A mask, hovering over her bed as she struggled to wake. The sensation of being cradled in a pair of cloak-clad arms. The stunned look on Albus' face as she lay motionless on the chair, fighting to move, to scream. A voice, blurry and dim, asking if she was alright .A struggle as she woke to see five men standing over her, wands raised. A single strip of a cloak, torn and left behind. And then that hellish, agonizing grip of the rough rope on her wrists…_

She started as his hand gently took hers. She shook her head, and saw him staring at her with such pity in his eyes that she snatched her hand from his. He pushed his chair back, and began to explain what had happened when she was… there.

"First you were beaten, beaten until you no longer fought. Beaten until your voice cracked and disappeared from all of your screaming. You were left hanging there, infection growing in your open wounds, and fever building. They came and beat you everyday, and even in your delusion, you refused to tell them anything, biting your lips to keep back anything that you may have said. And then, after the fever broke and you had rested as best you could…" he fell silent, looking down at the floor as his face turned scarlet. His hands had balled into fists, which were shaking heavily as he struggled to contain his anger.

A look at his face was enough to convince her that there was something strange going on. He was a Death Eater, a man without a conscience, and yet- he was nearly crying over her! She was even more amazed and suspicious that this was a ploy to play on her emotions when she saw a silent apology written on his face.

"Then I brought you here, after you fainted in my arms. I had another woman look after you. She came three times a day to care for your wounds, and feed you; she even washed the worst of the blood off of you.

"When you began to rise out of the worst of your recurring fever, she was ordered to leave, and I made sure to stay away. I didn't want you to be scared that I would hurt you, so rather than have anyone here to explain things to you, I had you left alone to wake up in your own time.

"After several hours, I had the men begin moving your things in. I knew that you'd have cleaned yourself up, and dressed; I thought that perhaps you'd even finished exploring the room, though I wasn't sure about the last.

"And then I came. I had to make everything look realistic, so I couldn't do anything other than tell you to attack me. Had the guards not been there- but they report directly to the Dark Lord on any hesitation that I make, any sign of weakness, any faults…"

She drifted into her own thoughts as he talked, wondering at several things that he'd said. Having to treat her cruelly just because there were guards in the room? Spies? This was another piece to the puzzle that she was working on.

"Hermione?"

He was gazing at her, his hand stretched out to her. One glance at his eyes told her all that she needed to know. They were filled with concern and that other emotion.

And suddenly, all of the pieces fell into place. She jerked back, pressing her back into the wall, to avoid his hand. How could she have been so blind? How could she have not known? The emotion in his eyes…

It was love!

Hardly believing herself, she thought about all of the past events that had included him. And in each of them, she realized that he'd subtly punished anyone who truly hurt her. Oh, the small pranks like calling her Mudblood, and the minor jinxes, had gone unpunished, but why hadn't she noticed that after every attack on her, the perpetrator had come down with something?

Her heart was racing, threatening to break out of her chest. Her mind was numb with the struggle to absorb the unbelievable information, and she couldn't think straight any longer.

Then two thoughts crossed her mind, and the internal struggle to retain her old life stopped cold. _What'll happen if he knows that I know? _

_And what if he knows about Severus and I?_

Emotions were swirling in her mind as her world collapsed, though she kept a calm outer composure. Anger, unexpected and ruthless, rose from somewhere deep in her gut, and she said the first thing that came to her mind, trying to keep him from guessing that she knew.

"Why do you care what happens to me? I'm just the filthy Mudblood, remember? Your enemy! Before now, it was just a rivalry, but when you came into the Voldemort's" and here she hardly flinched, so deep into her anger had she sunk, "service, your and I truly became enemies! And why do you care what your "guards" see you treating me like? Before now, you treated me like dirt! No- lower than dirt, because I… I'm a Mudblood!"

She sat there, feeling the backlash of all of her emotions spilling through her, ripping her apart. She looked at his face, and saw something, other than love, that she'd never expected to see there.

He had pity painted all over his face, pity and love and an understanding of her conflicting emotions.

He looked at her for a moment before he tentatively offered an answer. "Hermione, I thought that you knew. I thought it must be so obvious, that everyone, especially you, knew. I care about what happens to you because… well, because I… I-I love you."

She began to despair of ever getting free of this tangled mess. What if-?

Sensing that he'd just dropped a bombshell on her, he moved his chair closer, sitting right next to her. He began to talk, in a quiet, soothing voice about trivial things, trying to help her regain some measure of reason.

But then he made the mistake of laying his hand on hers. She struggled all the more, desperate to escape this madness, this insanity. She didn't care how, but she wanted out, away from everything- all of the good things and the bad things, to just be an observer until this situation resolved itself.

She wrenched her hand free, and he backed away a little, giving her the room that she so desperately needed. She hid her face behind trembling hands, distressed, as the anger ebbed away. Too much was happening all at once, and she couldn't take in anymore; she was being overwhelmed by everything. Tears trickled down her face, running between her fingers and falling, dying her blanket a deeper shade of red.

She sat, crying, face hidden, for an undeterminable time. Then she felt her hands being gently pulled away from her face. She looked up, her sight blurred, and saw that Draco had moved closer to her bed again. He slowly reached towards her, his hand stopping a good five or six inches away, as though waiting for permission to touch her.

When she didn't respond, touched her face and began to wipe the tears away, one at a time. Then, carefully, he shifted himself onto the bed, and drew her into his arms, aware that she might become a furious wildcat in an instant. But she wasn't angry anymore, and so she just sat there and cried, her head against his chest.

She was glad of his arms around her as her tears thickened, becoming something more than just tears; they became an emotional release for everything that she'd felt and hadn't been able to sort out. And as she cried, her world became smaller and smaller, until it resided completely within the circular comfort of his arms.

Her tears gradually slowed as he held her for those eternal minutes. She became quiet, withdrawn, and calmer, exhausted from her emotional storm, but feeling better for it. She'd given up her fight to be apart from it, and in weathering it, had spent all of her remaining energy.

So she certainly didn't have the strength to pull away, or even to protest, when he tipped her head back slightly, and began to kiss away the tears that still ran down her scarred face.


	6. A Dreamy Vision

"Severus, hold still! You know that this won't hurt, and it'll be quick- ouch!" shouted Remus, who'd just been elbowed in the eye.

Severus laughed as he thrashed almost feverishly in the bed. Did they truly think that they could leave him here? When they were going to save his love, who was imprisoned a mere few hundred miles away- a matter of seconds by Apparation? No, they'd have an easier time just bringing him along; he'd make sure that they had to.

He'd woken a few minutes before to find Alastor's wand tip at his temple: they were trying to gain the location of the place where Hermione was held prisoner. He'd begun to thrash, then, keeping them from getting the location even as he fought them in his own way.

Remus had come running, bringing Harry stumbling in on his heels moments later. The three of them were now trying to restrain him long enough to finish the spell. They weren't having much luck, though; he was struggling like a wounded bear might.

There was only one reason that they hadn't just Stunned him, and that was that he was far too weak to survive the spell. The weakness that he suffered after having been asleep for a week and a half had prevented that. He was so weakened that, when he'd fallen asleep, trying to tell them before, he'd been in a near coma. The other men had hurriedly concocted something like an awakening potion, and had fed it to him. It had taken nearly six hours to actually awaken him.

He felt a cool, long-fingered hand settle gently upon his forehead, and he stopped struggling. Even in the delirious haze that he had fallen into, he knew that Albus had come. And he was right, he saw, as he looked up. Albus' face hovered over him as if by magic.

"Calm down, Severus." his cool, somewhat distant voice requested, and he held still. Then he turned to Remus, Alastor, and Harry and said, in his most answer-demanding tone, "What's going on here?"

Severus just laid there as he listened to Remus trying to explain the situation. Albus' hand, he faintly noted, had moved down to his own, holding it as though he were a sick child in need of reassurance. When he turned back to Severus to see that the story was correct, Severus managed a weak nod.

Albus turned back to them, his voice suddenly frosty and reproving. "Why didn't you just come and get me? I could have solved the problem much faster than you three. Now we will all have to wait until morning to go."

His voice was decided, leaving very little room for argument.

But Remus was having none of it, Severus saw. He opened his mouth and began to speak, rapidly, as though afraid that what he had to say wasn't appropriate.

"Albus, we can't take Severus-"

"-he's too weak-" added Alastor.

""-he'll only slow us down-"declared Harry.

This was exactly the wrong thing to say. Albus straightened up, the cold disapproval radiating from his face in icy waves. Even his voice was made of ice as he said, "So, Harry, you think that he'll slow us down, do you?"

"Well, I-"said Harry, who'd just realized that he'd made a major mistake.

"You think that we could do better without him, do you? You think that you have more reason to go than Severus does?"

"No, I just-"

"Well, ask him why he wants to go, Harry. Ask him. See what he says, and weigh it against your reasons. _Then_ tell me that he should stay here, that he'll just slow us down. Well? Go on! Ask him!"

Albus was well and truly mad, now, so Harry turned to Severus, who was trembling with exhaustion, and said, "Why must you go with us?"

He saw the curious looks on the faces of the other two, and he sighed, feeling tears well up in his eyes. He dashed them away roughly, swallowed hard, and told them what only Albus had known.

"She and I are… we're engaged."

The look of shock on their faces was too much for him, and he buried his head in the pillow, afraid that if he kept on looking at them, he'd begin to cry.

Even so, he heard them talking.

"No wonder!" said Alastor in a deep, sorrowful voice.

"He never told us…" sighed Remus, his voice trembling with sorrow for the person he'd hurt.

Harry remained silent, the only one who seemed to have known. But that was impossible, as well, since Severus hadn't told anyone yet.

"Well, he asked her the day before she was- anyway, he couldn't take it, no doubt. He probably knew how you'd react, and just couldn't take any more…" came Albus' quiet reply.

Silence fell, and Severus felt that they were waiting for him, patiently, to talk to them.

When he turned over, he saw them all looking at him, pity visible first and foremost in their eyes. He ignored it, and began to speak quietly. Soon, all of the others forgot, for the moment, his suffering and were all engaged in planning a journey to the House- though they didn't know that it was that particular house.

Still, though, he thought he saw a flicker of fear, and recognition, in Harry's eyes. But he saw it only for a second: then it was masked, and Severus began to doubt himself. The boy couldn't possibly know, could he?

No, no… of course he didn't know. _There's no way for him to know… he hasn't invaded my thoughts, nor has he understood the clues…_

He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he had fallen silent, dropping out of the conversation. He was startled, then, when Albus' voice cut through his thoughts. "Severus, are you-"

"Fine, fine. Continue, please. I was just thinking about… some other things… details and such…"

But when he looked up at Albus' face,he noticed the look on Albus' face that said he knew what Severus had really been thinking about.

"…Fine, then. It's all settled. We'll all be ready to go at seven in the morning. Severus, Albus, we'll meet you in the Entrance Hall, along with several other teachers who can close and lock the doors from the inside once we've gone. And they'll know what else needs to be done…" Remus said, with a brisk, commanding tone.

Remus and Alastor left the room, picking up hastily dropped cloaks and bags on the way. Albus, sensing Severus' need to be alone with Harry, quietly got up and headed for the other door, commenting on the fact that since he'd be going with them, he needed to fill Minerva in on what needed to be done while he was gone and she was the Headmistress.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Harry walked over to a chair. He collapsed into it, his eyes blankly staring into the fire. Severus, with much effort, managed to get out of the bed, and totter over to one of the chairs before doing the same. He sat there, thinking about how to break the news to him, how much he could tell him…

It was Harry who spoke first.

"So why didn't you tell them? About where she was, I mean? It can't be that big of a secret. They must have some ideas as to where she could be."

Severus moved his eyes onto Harry, and he felt his jaw drop as a feeling of trepidation made his insides writhe. So… Harry did know! But- how?

"There are only so many places-"

"Wait a minute. Hang on. _You know where she is? _ How do you know?"

Harry looked at him, his face dark with anxiety, fear and a sense of knowing. It seemed as though he understood, somehow, what his old Potions master was feeling at any given time about any given thing.

"Well, when you were in the dream, I was there, too. I was sharing your body, a silent, passive passenger inside of your head. I saw everything you saw, thought everything you thought, knew everything you knew. I even felt the same things… her body in your arms, the longing inside you, to be with her forever and to never have to worry, her soft, warm lips beneath yours…

"I also saw, in that time, your soul. I know what you're truly like. I saw what you were, once, and what you are now. I know why you acted the way you did when I was young, and before that, before I was even born. I saw how you loved my mother from afar, never daring to ask her for a kiss, a glance, a smile; I saw how you left her all of those roses and gifts that were signed with _From a caring friend_, and _From a secret admirer._ I lived, in essence, your entire life in an instant when I first linked minds with you.

"And, most terribly of all, I remember everything that ever happened to me, now. I remember the first glimpse of light that I ever had; I remember the look of delight on my parents' faces as I spoke my first word, and how it felt to be loved. I remember their arms, cradling me, their hands, holding mine, the way they smelled… like spring and sunshine… and I remember…" here his voice faded, becoming smaller. He took a deep breath, and forced himself to continue. "…I remember how they died. Every gruesome detail. And I will never forget anything that happened to them."

He stopped talking, returning his gaze, filled with dead emotions, to the fire.

"I remember everything… everything…"

Silence fell, and the two men looked at the fire together, yet alone, each buried deep within his own thoughts.

"Before, I thought that I had hit rock bottom. Ginny missing, Ron dead… I thought that I couldn't go any lower. My world had been torn apart." whispered Harry.

"And then…" he added, almost afraid to continue his thoughts. "And then…"

For a moment, a mere moment, he stopped. Then he continued speaking, almost unknowingly; it was a though he didn't know what he was saying anymore.

"And then the dream came. A warning, from the Dark Lord himself. Though he thought that he hid it from me, I felt it. And it was then that I knew what hitting rock bottom really felt like."

There was no noise at all in the room, other than the snap and crackle of the flames that slowly devoured the logs. Even the wind and lashing rain that had started sometime during the meeting had died down, becoming the lowest of murmurs.

The look on Harry's face was bitter, almost heartbroken. _He's lost so much,_ reflected Severus, _in such a short amount of time. But then, haven't we all?_

Hours passed as the two sat together, chairs nearly pushed together but minds galaxies apart, never stirring except to throw another log onto the fire. Nothing disturbed them, not even Albus' cautious entrances and exits from the room as he managed castle affairs.

Severus stood as the fire died down, with his mind finally made up. He staggered back towards the bed, looking for his wand. Finding it on the nightstand, he turned back, planning to Stun Harry, but then he thought of something even better.

He dropped the wand, and managed to return to the chair without falling. Once he was comfortably seated, he lightly touched Harry's arm, and threw him back into the chaotic link that they'd had earlier. But instead of leaving Harry deep inside his own mind, he led the unresisting man to the door of his imagination. Taking a deep breath, and gathering strength, he stood, undecided for the shortest moment. Then, steeling himself, he pushed Harry through, and closed the door. Harry would be in the world/not world place until Severus released him.

Then he turned and walked away, smiling bitterly as he did so. Finding the light, he stepped out of the other's mind.

As he opened his eyes, he looked to see that Harry was unconscious. When he saw that he was, Severus stood, and walked to the bed. He had to hurry, if he wanted to get them all and leave before anything else came up.

He struggled for a few minutes with his clothes, and then picked up his wand. He turned, more confident now, and slowly walked, empty hand on the wall for support, out of the bed chamber and into Albus' office.

Hunting through the two untouched drawers of Albus' desk, he found a vial of Pepper-Up potion. Pulling off the seal, he swallowed three huge mouthfuls, mindless of the taste. He shuddered as he felt a rush of strength, and re-corked the vial, stowing it in the pants pocket. He'd need more later, most likely.

Then he strode briskly out of the room, more determined than ever to do the things he'd planned.

After making his way down to his rooms, and gathering supplies, he headed to the guest quarters, which were across the Entrance Hall. He knew which rooms were Remus' and Alastor's, though since it was the full moon, Remus would be out on the grounds roaming, completely out of control. So all he had to worry about here was Alastor.

Standing outside the door, Severus quickly whispered an incantation that would show him, on a model of the room, where there were wards and spells for defense. He grinned as he saw the results: a glowing gray line across the doorway, a red stripe across the middle of the room, several blinking blue dots scattered around the furniture, and a warding circle of black that shimmered around the bed.

_Well, well, well,_ he thought, _a little cautious tonight, are we? That's all right; I know the counter-curses that will eliminate these._

Whispering one after the other, he watched his "floor plan" as the lights blinked out one by one. Then, when no more remained, he cautiously opened the door.

When he stepped into the room, he saw a blinking silvery dot appear on his map, showing him where he was standing. He navigated around the room, avoiding the furniture as he did so thanks to the map. Making his way over to the bed, he closed his hand upon the floor plan, and it vanished. Then, he raised his wand, and whispered a few words before casting the spell.

Once it was cast, he stood over his friend, watching the amber mist slowly creep up his still form until he was completely enveloped in a cloud of it, which slowly vanished. Alastor's breathing deepened, and Severus knew that it had worked.

He left the room, not bothering himself over taking as much care as he had before since Alastor was deeply asleep. Leaving the guest chambers, he headed for Albus' secret rooftop spot, via a hidden passageway.

He emerged, dusty and covered in cobwebs, at the rooftop hideaway. Albus was sitting there, staring at the stars. Without turning, he addressed Severus.

"So, come to put a spell on me, Severus? Come to make me sleep, or forget, so that none of us go to our deaths?"

"No, Headmaster," he replied, tiredness creeping sneakily into his voice, "I've only come to stop you from following me. _I _may be killed tonight, but none of the rest of you will."

Albus turned to look at him, but slowly toppled to the ground as the Stunning Spell hit him. Severus pocketed his wand, then walked over and slowly picked him up. The entrance to the passageway had remained open, but once he stepped back inside, it closed, completely obscuring the stars.

He carried the Headmaster to his bed chamber, and set him down on the bed, where he'd be found in the morning by Remus or Minerva.

Turning to the window, he summoned a broomstick, waiting impatiently until it arrived. Once he'd mounted it, he flew out the window, stopping only long enough to take what could be his final glimpse of the place he called home.

Then he turned to the north, and flew away, a dark figure silhouetted by the moon. The howl of a werewolf rose behind him, swelling into a crescendo of joy, before falling silent- the castle's farewell.


	7. A Daring Plan

_Figures cloaked in darkness surrounded her- wands raised- Severus' anguished face- an agonized cry that split the darkness- blood, there was blood everywhere-_

Her eyes snapped open, and she was lying in her bed; her breath coming fast in her throat, a cold sweat coating her face and hands. In the pitch dark of the room, she could look out the window and see the stars, gleaming like eyes of some celestial being watching over her. The moon was behind the clouds, though she knew that it was full tonight.

_I wonder where Remus is right now,_ she wondered idly, and then froze as she heard something moving in the darkness. _What the?_

Slowly, as the person drew nearer, she made out who it was, and almost made an exclamation. Seeing that she was awake, however, he motioned for her to remain still and quiet. Then he withdrew a small vial from his pocket, and slipped it into her hand before leaning down to whisper directions in her ear.

She nodded after he stood again, and then watched silently as he melted back into the shadows. Then, before he'd even left, she turned her thoughts to the vial and directions.

_What an odd thing to do_, she thought. _Still, though, I trust him, and I guess I should do it. After all, it's not like there's anything else that I can do._

With that, she rolled out of bed and made her way into the bathroom. She noticed as she entered that a pearly light seemed to emanate from the chandelier, even though it wasn't on. So there was no need for her to turn on the lights; it would only serve to blind her to whatever could be seen through the window.

She turned on the water, and then pulled off her nightgown, tossing it unconcernedly onto the floor. Then she pulled at the cork that sealed the vial, struggling briefly with it. It popped out, and bounced off the wall, rolling into some darker corner.

_Well,_ she though, hesitating, _here goes nothing._

She looked at the pale orange liquid for another minute, trying to convince herself to do it. Then, feeling somewhat reckless, she tipped her head back and drank it all down.

As soon as she did so, a strange spinning sensation enveloped her. _That's odd, _she thought. _When did I turn on the lights? It's so bright in here… but I never turned on the lights…_

She didn't notice anything when the vial slipped from suddenly-numb fingers and shattered on the floor. She stood there, rocking, as she tried to shake off the strange feelings that crept over her.

Only after she hit the cool tile floor did she realize that she'd fallen. She couldn't feel the glass that cut her, or the warm water that washed over her foot as the water splashed out of the bath.

Slowly her thoughts became organized, and, with a stab of fear, noticed that she wasn't able to move voluntarily. And that she actually didn't have any feeling of heat or pain.

So she was alone, engulfed in her thoughts, with no possible escape except for sleep- and she couldn't sleep any more.

She lay back and let her thoughts fill her head, hoping that it would ease the passage of time; she had no way of knowing whether or not it did except for the amount of light that came through the window.

When the sun filled the chamber, she began to hear noises outside the bathroom. Though she couldn't be certain, she thought that it might be Draco, preparing some potion or other. So she tried to call out, to make some noise that would cause him to investigate.

She managed a low moan, which brought him running. When he saw her there, he stopped, unable to keep himself from laughing. "So," he said, "trying to escape, hmmm? Thought that you could get through my wards, did you?"

He knelt beside her, and, catching her eye, managed to convey, wordlessly, that this was part of the act that he kept up for the spies. Which meant that she must act the part of the prisoner again. She almost tried to roll her eyes in irritation, but then thought better of it. After all, he could just give her over to the tender care of his master.

His hands came into her range of sight and then disappeared again. Then she was moving, sitting up, and she realized that he was helping her sit up. He leaned her against the wall, and stepped away, presumably to turn off the water in the tub.

He returned a few moments later, and, seeing that her head was hanging, asked what was wrong.

She couldn't tell him, but he must have figured it out when she didn't make any visible attempt to respond. Bending over, he rested her chin on his palms and slowly leaned her head back until it touched the wall, and let go.

She had to close her eyes for a few moments so that she wouldn't see the room spinning crazily. When she opened them again, he was looking into her eyes with an almost stricken expression.

"Oh, a little too strong, then? I'm sorry, love; I was only trying to make sure it worked. Here-I can ease it a bit, but not much."

He pulled from an inner pocket a vial of a blood-red potion. Popping out the cork, he deftly tipped her head back and poured a few drops into her mouth. Then he let her head go as she began to spasm slightly with the searing heat that flooded through her, melting the ice in her bones.

With immense effort, she managed to look up at him, and a smile slowly spread across her face.

"Thank you" she whispered, her voice firm but soft. "That's much better."

"I know it is, but it's only temporary. In a few minutes, you will be just like you were. So before that happens, I want you to know that you have to believe that I won't hurt you or anything like that."

"What are you going to do?"

"I can't tell you that right now. It would put us both in too much danger. But trust me as best as you can."

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as though praying to a god. Than he picked up her nightgown and undergarments, and tossed them to her.

"Here," he stammered, turning a bit red. "You need to put these back on."

"I'll need some help, I think." She replied, turning red herself. "I'm not strong enough to stand up unaided, let alone dress myself."

They struggled for a bit, working together to get her dressed. As soon as she had drawn the nightgown over her head, he let go of her, and she slid down the wall back onto the floor. He turned his back to her, but before he did, she noticed that his cheeks were as deep crimson as her own must be.

She couldn't look at him; she was too embarrassed. _What do you say to someone who's just helped you get dressed?_ She wondered, unsure of what to do. _Do you thank them, or would that be too weird?_

A few minutes passed, with each of them determinedly not looking at the other. _It seems,_ she thought, almost wryly, _as though we both believe that by not talking about it, it doesn't exist._

Draco startled her when he began to speak. "You will start feeling weaker soon, and then we will play the most dangerous game of all- the game of deception. And though I will say some things that will cause you to doubt me, please try to believe in me- and in yourself, for deciding to trust me. I shan't play you false."

He turned his eyes back to her, and she noticed that his face, which had been considerably paler, became flushed again. She could feel her own face becoming hot, and wished that there was some way to hide it. _It's strange, blushing in front of him. I wonder why?_ She pondered this thought, glad to have something to think about other than the fact that he'd had to help her dress.

Then she became distracted by the loss of feeling and control in her body. A build up of frustration and fear and helplessness formed, making her dread the end results of the process. She couldn't help hating it, this thing that made her as weak as a babe. It just wasn't natural.

She noticed as each muscle group grew numb, and began trying to predict what would be next as a way to keep her mind off of the strangeness of the actual numbness. She wasn't very good at it, and became distracted by something that rose inside her- a feeling of hope, of love… and this made her relax a little. As she did so, she found that Draco was talking to her, trying to help her forget the sensation. She began to listen gratefully.

He talked of many things as he waited for the potion to re-gain its effect. He spoke of old friends, and of new ones; the activities of the Death Eaters and plans for things in the future. He listed names of recruiters, and told her tales of his childhood. And he updated her on the condition of his family.

It was here that she learned something that was important.

"My mother… well, she's all right," he was saying, "and clueless as usual. Pretends that she doesn't know what we're up to, as though we were just going out every night to play some silly game or something…

"I know that my cousin Bellatrix is rising in the ranks. She's bloodthirsty and damn ruthless. …Not that I ever thought her otherwise. She always was beastly, even when she was a bit younger and she'd play with me. Though that wasn't really play, now that I think of it. It was more like a kind of, well, gentle torture.

"And Father… well, he's dead. Murdered by his 'ol' mate who'd never hurt him for old time's sake'. I don't know what he did to get killed, but he did something really awful I'd guess. Not much gets the Dark Lord mad. …Though that botched job on Harry back at the World Cup nearly had a bunch of heads rolling, Father's included."

She stored that away. She'd think about it later, when thinking was all that she could do.

As her head fell against her chest again, she became aware that there was a puddle of something dark on the tile, and a sprinkling of shiny slivers of glass in and around it. What had been spilled there?

Then she remembered, in that moment of hitting the tile, the faint feeling of pain, and the knowledge that she had landed on shards of the glass vial.

She couldn't help wondering if the cuts had scabbed over, or if they were still bleeding through the nightgown. It would look strange for her to be taken to his master only to be betrayed by blood spilling through her nightgown.

"Come then. It's time we were off." Stated Draco, and leaning over, he scooped her body up into his arms. He bid her to close her eyes, and when she did so, she felt the telltale signs of movement; the swaying of her body against his as it rose and fell. They were off to find his master.


	8. The Reunion

Shivering, he watched them leave through the small window of the bathroom. They hadn't seen him because of the effects of the Disillusionment Charm that he'd asked a young witch to cast upon him. Though she'd needed some help, (and a little practice) she'd gotten it right in the end.

He flew away from the window, wondering what he should do next. Obviously Draco had drugged her and was taking her to his master, though it was a day early. Why wouldn't he have waited that extra day? It didn't make sense unless-

He must have found a way to get her to talk- to tell all the secrets that she knew of the Order, and of the current state of affairs at Hogwarts. Perhaps he'd even want to know trivial things, like what the beliefs were about him in the Wizarding and Muggle worlds.

At that, his mind stopped, and his heart became hard and cold. What could he have done to her to break her spirit? _I'll kill the bastard if he's so much as looked at her wrong!_ He swore, unafraid to take on anyone to keep his love from harm.

_How will I get in there? It's not like there's a loose screen somewhere- unless…_

He grinned, and directed the broom towards the attic window. There was a chance that they hadn't thought to spell that one, and that's how Sirius had once told him that he'd gone to visit James, after he was married. Lily hadn't wanted Sirius and his rough manners to stop by so much after Harry had been born, afraid that they might affect the child, young as he was. So James had had to sneak out, or Sirius in.

It was a window that was hard to get to from the inside, unless you knew the secret of the attic's maze. _It's simple, really, _Sirius had said._ All you have to do is, when you have a choice, always turn right._

Which meant that, now, since he was coming _in _to the house, he needed to turn left to get to the attic doorway.

Hovering beside the window, he tried to pull away the screen. When he had little success, he ran through various unlocking spells, listening as the window and finally the screen unlocked.

Just before it fell, he realized that this would be the trickiest part. He grabbed the screen as it tipped out of the window, and holding on to it with one arm, he rose up to the roof.

The screen nearly slipped from his grasp as he tried to set it down. Luckily the snow was deep here, and when it finally did slip, it made no more than a muffled thump. Cautiously, he looked about, hoping that no one had noticed the sudden flurries of snow that flew around the house in the wind, and that the thump had been mistaken for a normal household noise.

He steered the broom back up to the window and wedged a small knife between the sill and the actual window. After a few minutes' struggle, he had managed to pry it open far enough to slide his fingers in. Ten minutes later, he had the window all the way open, and was more than ready to be inside where it was warm.

So he took one deep breath, trying to calm himself, and slowly, leaning on the house, he stood up on the broomstick. After waiting a moment, hoping that his knees would stop shaking, he realized how completely insane this was. When it became clear that they wouldn't stop, he decided that he'd have to jump.

Counting slowly, he forced himself to accept the fact that he would have to do this in order to save her, and that every moment he wasted was another moment lost. This spurred him on, and taking a deep breath, he threw himself forward, using the upper ledge of the window sill to swing his feet into the room. One foot, as he continued to fall, hit a box. And the other hit something softer, something that yielded beneath the pressure that he exerted upon it.

It felt strangely like a leg.

_That would be because it _is _one._

Hands seized his legs, and he was pulled roughly into the room. When he was released, he fell to the floor, looking straight up at the ceiling as the wind was knocked out of him.

Gasping, he tried to fill his lungs, totally unconcerned with the people that surrounded him. All he wanted was to be able to breathe, to feel the blessed air rushing in and out of his lungs…

Finally, he heard the harsh, guttural sounds that surrounded him. It was laughter, the laughter of murderers and traitors. He almost shivered, but couldn't bear to let his old mates see him as weak. So he struck out, lashing them with insults and gestures.

They all grinned wickedly at him, and then forced him up from the ground after disarming him. He saw them all, and knew them, even through their masks: Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle, and there was McNair and Malfoy, and standing by the door was Avery and Bellatrix, wand in hand.

She sneered at him, and watched with some interest as the others forcibly restrained and searched him.

"Severus, Severus, Severus," she said, her voice sly and vehement as she stood there, "I never thought that you'd be the one to take a student lover. You always did set such a store by the rules. Still, I'll have fun breaking her." She whispered, dripping poison into his ears.

She merely laughed when he lunged at her, knowing even through his anger and trepidation that he was no match for an armed witch, even one of her low caliber.

He was thrown back by a heavy boot kicking into his stomach. A sharp pain in his throbbing side told him that some of his ribs were broken. He hit the wall hard and slid down it, collecting bruises from the rough bricks and warped wood. He found himself unable to stand for lack of breath.

He lay there, panting, until they forced him up again. Grasping him brutally by his arms, Avery and Nott forced him to stand at attention between them. Bella watched, amused, as the men took turns hexing him and watching the results as two or more hexes and jinxes met. This continued until she cried, "Crucio!" in her rich, expressive voice.

He had time to register that he was falling, and then the pain hit him like a tidal wave.

Ice lined his breaking bones, and his blood was boiling in his veins. He felt his insides stretching, pulling to the snapping point, and all of his organs turning inside out. Bile flooded his mouth, and it was all he could do to keep his dinner from the night before in his stomach. His lungs seemed filled with molasses, and his heart with lead. His eyes were being squeezed, and an assault was launched upon the tender bones of his inner ear as what sounded like a hundred thousand bands played horribly in his face. Disgusting scents filled his nose, and someone was running white-hot pokers through his brain while hundreds of other beings jumped up and down on him. He longed for the oblivion of death, the comfort of the dark, the end of the agony._ If only death would come now… what a relief it would be… even Hermione would understand._

_Hermione…_

A pang of grief bit briefly through the intense pain.

_I'll never see her again._

_I love you, Hermione…_

And then the pain ended.

She was laughing when he finally stopped twitching. Using a stack of boxes for support, he managed to drag himself up off of the floor. He leaned heavily upon the topmost one, unable to stand up by himself.

Only when his legs stopped shaking under him did he let go of the box. Immediately, he opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to his mind.

"So, Bella, is that the best you've got? That was painless, compared to your normal. Do I sense a weakness in you?"

Looking back at him, a dangerous glint was visible in her eyes, along with a longing for more of his pain and the cold, ruthless uncaring look of a long-time Death Eater. "No, it's not my worst- just enough to get compliance from you for the moment. And it's only by the orders of the Dark Lord. Trust me, if left to my own devices, I would kill you- give you a slow, agonizing death after having killed the girl before your very eyes. Oh, how enjoyable that would be- to see you begging me, pleading for her life, telling me to kill you and leave her… Either way, you would lose: it would be death or slow torture."

He watched her, the last vestiges of pain fading, as she ordered them to take him to the cell.

"So, now you're using cells, hmm? What brought that change about?"

"No, we've been saving the cell just for _you_, Severus. See, the Dark Lord doesn't want you escaping like last time, and he won't let us kill you, so I'll just put you in this _lovely_ cell and make every moment of your life with us a living hell."

"Yup, that's Bella all right," he said, to no one in particular. "Right pain in the ass, as per usual."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her knuckles turn white as she gripped her wand tightly. He felt a smirk cross his face, and knew that it infuriated her more than ever. He saw her hand tighten on the wand even more, until-

-SNAP!

Bellatrix's wand snapped, broken into pieces by the force exerted on it. She looked at in horror, as though it were a snake that had bitten her. Then she looked at him, hate flaring in her eyes.

Striding over, she slapped him, as hard as she could. He felt her rings bite into his cheek, and, though it stung, laughed as the blood slowly ran down his face.

"Bit of a temper there, hey Bella?" he taunted her, watching her face turn red as rage grew in her.

Silently snarling, she turned away, and the other Death Eaters gathered around him, hitting him with wands and fists. Pain flared white-hot, but he did his best to ignore it.

"Let's go!" McNair growled, stopping the rain of blows as he stuck Severus' wand into his front pocket. The laughter in his voice was thinly veiled, and his eyes gleamed with mirth. Apparently Bella's fit was amusing to him, too.

Or maybe it was Severus' pain that amused him.

Severus had no time to think about it, for with more jabs and hexes, he was forced into the maze of corridors after Bella.


	9. The Challenge

"So, she has begun to talk, has she? Good, good. I knew I was right to give her to you."

His cold voice echoed in her ears, and she knew that, had she not been drugged, she would have shuddered.

"Yes, she sings so sweetly for me now that I have decided that I should bring her to you and let you do your work with her, that I may take her back and do as _I _please with her." Draco's voice was careless but hungry, somehow.

"I told you that you could do whatever you wished." Voldemort said, his voice colder than ice.

"Yes," said Draco, "but I want to kill her. Can't do that if you need to speak with her, can I?" His voice was saucy, laced with contempt.

She heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and realized that Voldemort must have slapped him for his disrespect. Mentally shivering again, she could only imagine what would happen if he learned that Draco had set up this meeting _without _having learned anything from her.

"I'll have none of that from you. Now, tell me what you have done to her."

Draco's voice, sullen but appropriately subdued, became fainter and fainter as he walked away with his master, discussing the way that he had supposedly forced her to talk to him.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, she opened her eyes and examined her surroundings.

It appeared that she was in a sitting room of sorts. Though she couldn't be certain yet, she thought that she was lying on a couch; it was comfortable and covered in a velvety material. There were two chairs set near the couch, and a small coffee table between them. The carpet was a deep blue, and the walls were an interesting sea foam green. There was a small fire dancing in the fireplace across from her, which appeared to be made of rounded stones. Other than that, there were no decorations.

A strange noise filled the room, and she began to feel uneasy. _What could be making that awful noise?_ She wondered, trying to locate the source of the sound. There was nothing in the room that could have been making it, so where was it coming from?

Suddenly the head of a huge snake filled her vision, and had she been able to, she would have screamed. As it was, she froze, afraid to move lest it bite her. _Fangs that long would cause horrible injuries…_

The snake flicked its tongue out a few times, and then slithered down off of the couch. She heard it go out into the hall, and heaved a sigh of relief. _That thing's huge!_ She thought, and then was struck by an interesting, if horrifying, notion.

_I wonder if that's the snake that bit Mr. Weasly back in fifth year?_

She heard the two men returning to the room, and hurriedly shut her eyes, hoping that they hadn't seen her eyes open. She had to buy some time, and pretending to be unconscious, though it would soon be discovered, was certainly a good way to start.

"… and Nagini has just informed me that she's awake. How long ago did you give her that potion?" Voldemort's high, cold voice queried.

"About half an hour ago, Milord." Replied Draco, his voice a bit cheerier. "So she should be back to normal in about twenty more minutes."

"Good, good. Leave me- I wish to examine her at my leisure."

There was no sound.

"I said go!"

Slow footsteps dragged across the floor as he made his way out. The door latch clicked shut, and she heard the scrape of a lock, made of a heavy metal, as it ground into the stone. Then the Dark Lord whispered a few well-chosen words, and she knew, rather than saw, the spell's glow creep up the door.

Silence, loud and heavy, stole across the room. _Where is he now? _She wondered, as long moments passed and there was no sound. _What is he doing?_

She started as his high, cold voice rang out, the pressure of his breath heavy on her ears. "Come, now, girl. I know already that you are awake. Open your eyes and look at me."

She shivered at the images that his tone provoked from her imagination. She tried to blank her mind, to ignore them, but they floated back time and time again.

"You would still play at this as though it were a game, and I someone to be toyed with? Very well then. I shall just have to play as well," he said, his silky voice caressing her ears even as she strove to brush away more images.

She heard his footsteps as he went down an unseen hallway, and shivered again as he called for Wormtail.

"… yes, I have need of you," he said, amusement evident in his voice. "Oh, and bring with you…" His voice faded, and she was left to contemplate, with growing fear, what he could have asked Wormtail to bring with him.

Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

Rough hands seized her shoulders and wrenched her up off the couch. Her eyes snapped open and she opened her mouth, but before she'd gotten more than a deep breath and a jumbled impression of cold, slitted scarlet eyes, he'd smacked her across the face.

The blow stung, and before she could stop herself, she let out an exclamation. He hit her again, and she gasped, which prompted him to hit her again.

When he stopped, and let her go, she fell to her knees. Her face burned, and she could feel welts from his two rings rising. Her blood was boiling, and she wanted to kill him, to murder him where he stood, but she couldn't.

She saw his booted feet turn from her and go towards the door, where another pair, partially hidden by several long poles and coils of rope. They turned aside, and she heard the poles clatter to the ground.

"Get started at once. I want this thing put together immediately. I have work to do."

"Of course, My Lord. Right away."

The voice of the second speaker was thin and nasally, high pitched and wheezy, like the squeak of a rat that's just stopped running from the cat that's chased it for miles. She knew that voice, and the face that it belonged to. And she hated him.

"Wormtail," she hissed under her breath, with unexpected venom.

"Did you say something, My Lord?" he inquired, his voice smaller.

"Did I what? No, not like that, you incompetent fool! Like this!"

There was a clatter of wood, and a hiss of pain as Wormtail's finger was crushed beneath one of the poles. She looked up to see him silently cursing, his head bent over the wooden stand that he was erecting as he lashed one end of the bar in place.

Then she felt the prick of panic as she realized what it was that he was setting up.

It was a whipping stand.

The Dark Lord looked down at her, an amused smirk lighting his face. He saw her fear, her panic, she knew. And from the looks of things, it was only serving to fan the malicious flames in his eyes.

"One last chance, Mudblood," he drawled, his voice dangerously warmed, "to tell me what I want to know without having to use such… methods… on you."

She forced herself to stand, the last of the potion finally gone from her system. "I'll never tell you! Never!" She cried, her voice angrily lashing out.

"Very well, then," he replied, motioning to Wormtail. "Let us play your game."

Wormtail moved forward, the stand finished. In one hand he held a rope; with the other he reached out to her. His face, unseen by his lord, was slightly remorseful as he looked at her, but also slightly eager, to see her punished. His eyes were bright with suppressed excitement, but there was an uneasy cast to them as well, as though he didn't believe in what he was doing.

_Maybe I can change his mind,_ she thought, an almost reckless idea drawing together in her mind. _But to do that, I need some time. Still, this isn't likely to work…_

_And if it doesn't… what happens then?_

She had no answer to that, and pushed it away, burying it deep in her mind.

"Why," she asked of the Dark Lord, evading his minion for the moment, "didn't you just cast a spell to set that up? It seems such a waste of time, to make him set it up himself."

His face, a leering mask of cruelty, contorted in a flash of unexpected aggravation. _I bet it's because he doesn't have anyone that questions him. After all, he _is _the Lord of Darkness…_

"Because it's rather more fun watching him put it together by himself," was his amused reply.

Wormtail, who had followed her as she moved away, was closing in on her. She had, unthinkingly, backed herself into a corner, with a chair and the couch on her left, the walls behind and on her right, and him advancing towards her.

"Why are you doing this?" She cried, as Wormtail grabbed her wrists and tied them together. "What do you want from me?"

His cold eyes were leveled at her as Wormtail brought her to the couch, and forced her to be seated before tying her ankles together. He checked the knots, making sure that they were tight enough to keep her from escaping, but not too tight. When he was secure in the knowledge, he moved away from her to kneel at his master's feet.

"You cannot guess what it is that I have kept you for?" He mused, a strange glint in his eye, and a tremor of laughter in his voice. "No, I suppose it is too soon for you to know… But still, I had thought that you, of all people, would have realized… But then, you _were_ occupied, and of course it wouldn't have caught your attention, immersed in pain and humiliation as you were."

He paused, letting his thoughts wander, and she wondered what it was that she was to have known.

Sudden footsteps down the hallway halted his contemplation. After listening for a few moments, he called out.

"Bella, what is it? I told everyone that I wished to be alone!"

"Of course, Master, but I thought that this is something you would know right away. It's about the traitor," she said, sinking to her knees before him. "He's been apprehended, and is being held in the cell below, as you commanded."

"Good." He replied, seeming to withdraw into his thoughts. "You may go."

She rose from her knees quietly. In a matter of moments, as she was nearing the doorway, he pulled out his wand.

"_Crucio!_"

She screamed and fell to the floor, convulsing. She shook, and thrashed, but he never lifted his wand. It seemed to go on forever, until finally it seemed that he'd had enough of watching her suffer.

"Bella," he added as she slowly stood up, knees shaking and face white, "never disobey me again. If you do, I shall make you beg me for what you have just gone through, so harsh will the punishment be. Are we clear?"

She swallowed convulsively, barely able to look at him for the remembered pain, and fear.

"Y-yes, my Lord."

With that, she turned and left.

He turned back to Hermione, scarlet eyes cool. "I have something of yours, something that you will be glad to see. Wormtail, come. I will need your assistance bringing it here."

"But my Lord," he whined, "surely-" He fell silent as his master lifted his wand, unwilling to argue any further. Or at least, unwilling to face punishment.

Voldemort swept out of the room in a blur of crimson, Wormtail trotting obediently, if sullenly, along behind him. She heard the door close, and heaved a sigh of relief that he was gone, and she was alone.

_But I'm never truly alone when I have thoughts to keep me company._

And for that, she could have wept.


End file.
